


Reflections of the Past

by hinotoriii



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinotoriii/pseuds/hinotoriii
Summary: During the first year of the reopening of the Officers Academy, Byleth decides to reintroduce the tradition of holding a ball for the students.Knowing how much work has gone into the preparations, Dimitri decides to make some time to visit Garreg Mach for himself. And if he just so happens to get to spend some time with his wife too? Well. That's just an added bonus.[Discontinued. Consider it a one shot now.]





	Reflections of the Past

“Come on, you. Off.”

The orange cat leaps down off the desk as Byleth’s hand reaches gently beneath his belly. She hears it let out a soft meow, walking in a small circle before eventually sitting and staring back up at her with large, amber eyes. Byleth shakes her head fondly.

She’d never expected that she would form such a strong attachment to one of the many strays that prowled around Garreg Mach, yet Cat - as she’s since come to refer to him as - had proven to be an exception. He’d first appeared after the war, prowling outside what had once been Byleth’s old room. Since then it’s been unclear as to whether Byleth had chosen to claim him as a pet or if rather he had chosen her, although Byleth herself remains convinced it’s most likely the latter.

Byleth supposes the new companionship she’s found with Cat shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise to her however. After all, many aspects of her life have proven to journey down the path of the unexpected.

She sits down, the tired chair creaking beneath her weight. Byleth’s eyes slowly travel over the assortment of papers spread out across her desk - letters, agreements, reports, messages from or about this years students. It’s so much more paperwork than what she’d work with during her days as a professor, and although it’s been almost a year to the day she’d been appointed as archbishop Byleth still sometimes feels overwhelmed by the weight and importance such a title carries along with it.

Although a warrior through and through Byleth remains thankful that the world has found some semblance of peace at long last. Of course much work still remains in both maintenance and the strengthening of new bonds, yet things have come a long way from the long years of war.

This year is the first in which Byleth has since reopened the Officers Academy. Seeing the halls of Garreg Mach filled with students once again is like sliding the final missing puzzle piece back into place, and finally things felt right within the monastery once more. Both Manuela and Hanneman had jumped at the opportunity to become professors again, and along with Seteth had helped Byleth find others to teach at the academy also.

The first school year so far has passed with little problem, and due to that Byleth remains confident in her decision to move forward with one tradition the academy couldn’t do without. Even if Seteth still reminds her on occasion of his own concerns on reintroducing too much too soon.

A soft knock sounds at her door, prompting Byleth to look up from the papers she’d been reading from.

“Come in.”

The door opens, making way for a small, familiar figure to enter. A soft smile falls upon her lips as Byleth sees who it is. She sets the paper she’s holding down upon the desk, resting her hands over it.

“Hello Flayn,” she greets, watching her visitor slow to a stop across from her. A bright smile of her own lights up Flayn’s face, and despite her struggles to determine others expressions Byleth has learnt enough over the years to consider that there’s something akin to joy lighting up her features more than usual.

“There’s a visitor for you in the audience chamber, your Grace,” Flayn says, her hands coming to rest in front of her. “My brother is currently speaking with them, but we both believe they are here to meet with you personally.”

Byleth’s brow furrows.

“That’s odd,” she replies, rising out of her seat. “I was certain we weren’t due any other visitors today.”

“I don’t believe this visit was planned. At least not officially.”

_Officially?_

While it is true that occasionally people journeyed to the monastery outside of any such reason - usually rather out of an interest towards religion, or for those on some sort of pilgrimage - they never usually arrived so late in the afternoon.

“Well. Let us learn what brings them here then, shall we?”  
  
  


* * *

  
In a way, it’s likely a good thing that her visitors arrived during a quieter time of the day.

Otherwise, there would likely be many a tale told about how the archbishop herself _ran_ across the chamber into the waiting arms of the king of Faerghus.

Dimitri lifts her off her feet with ease, spinning her around in a circle as they both laugh joyfully. The chamber itself is more or less vacant, leaving only those who were close friends to the both of them amongst him and Byleth.

He sets her back down on her feet before Byleth has a chance to get dizzy, although Dimitri’s arms remain wrapped around her waist. Byleth smiles brightly up at him, something like butterflies fluttering in her stomach at how he looks down at her with such warmth shining in his eye.

“What are you doing here? The last you wrote, you told me that you were preparing to head towards Enbarr.”

“We still are,” Dimitri replies, and _gods,_ if the sound of hearing his voice after so long felt like a dream in itself. “I simply … may have stretched the truth on when it is I plan to arrive there. But only slightly.”

Byleth raises her eyebrows, surprised at what she’s hearing. Her expression prompts her husband into laughter.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be here for the academy’s first ball since the war ended? Especially after all the hard work everyone here has been pouring into it.”

“I’d assumed you’d be busy. Plus I do recall anything involving dances to not really being your favourite form of event.”

Byleth’s gaze travels, noticing the three familiar faces of those who have accompanied Dimitri on his journey. She steps out of Dimitri’s embrace, placing a hand over her heart as she greets old friends she hasn’t seen in months.

“My friends,” says Byleth. “Pardon my rudeness for not greeting you sooner.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Ashe replies.

“Yes, we understand,” Ingrid adds, smiling as her gaze flickers between the royal couple. “We expected such a reunion between you. It’s nice to see his Highness so happy. And to also see your happiness too, your Grace.”

“Come now, Ingrid,” Byleth says, waving a hand. “It’s Byleth to you. To _all _of you -” she looks between Ashe and Dedue, knowing well how the two of them still found difficulty enough in calling Dimitri by his name and not his title, let alone her. “We’re well past the point of such formalities.”

“Sorry Byleth,” Ingrid replies. “Old habits are difficult to break.”

“I know. But just between us? I still feel as if I’ll never fully get used to such prominent titles.”

Attempting to break her old students out of the habit of calling her Professor had proven to be tricky enough, and in the end it hadn’t really mattered. With both of her newer positions - first as the archbishop and second as queen consort - only greater titles had been bestowed upon her. Byleth primarily went by ‘her Grace’, but there way times when those she would be communicating with would feel confused on whether to refer to her as ‘her Majesty’ instead.

For a girl who had grown up as a travelling mercenary alongside her Father, the new titles and lifestyle were still something of an adjustment Byleth found herself settling into. It made it easier for her if the formalities were left at the doorstep when it came to speaking with close friends and family.

“How long are you planning to stay for?”

“Until the end of the festivities,” Dedue answers, giving a small bow before her.

“As long as that is not a problem, of course,” Dimitri adds.

“It could never be a problem,” Byleth replies, reaching out to clasp Dimitri’s hand in her own. A familiar warmth, something she wonders how she went without during their long time apart.

“Seteth?” Byleth asks, turning her head slightly to where she knows Seteth had been speaking with Flayn quietly. He looks up, quickly making his way over to her.

“Yes, Archbishop?”

“Would you be so kind as to organise some rooms for our friends during their stay with us?”

“I would be honoured,” he says, sharing a friendly smile with the others. “Allow me some time, and I should be able to have some assigned within the next hour or so.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Seteth nods. He greets those from Faeghus briefly, stopping at last to ask Dimitri how all fares in his Kingdom. Afterwards, he returns to Flayn, the two of them leaving to see to Byleth’s request.

“He has been of great help to me during these past few months,” Byleth says. “I know now why Rhea values his work so highly.”

“Seteth’s kept in correspondence with us quite frequently also,” Dimitri explains. “In between both his letters and yours, I feel as if I know much about your work here. It is reassuring to know that the monastery is back in good hands.”

“Not to mention, the work you’ve done in the reconstruction here is incredible,” Ashe adds, looking up at the intricately detailed ceiling above them.

“Would you like to see more of the monastery? It’s been some time since your last visit, I’m sure you’re curious to see how the place is coming along for yourselves.”

The offer seems to spark excitement in both Ashe and Ingrid’s faces, the two of them sharing a silent conversation as their eyes meet. While both Dimitri and Dedue had visited more frequently, for both of the two knights the last time they’d seen Garreg Mach had been during the last days of the war. Much has changed since then - while the rooms and buildings had once seemed tired and broken, now it is as if they were revitalized. There still remained areas that were undergoing repairs, but those were few and far between, hardly managing to affect day to day academy life.

“What do you say, your Highness?” Ingrid asks. With a small smile, Dimitri nods.

“Absolutely,” his gaze moves from Ingrid back to where Byleth stands beside him, her hand still clasped in his. “Lead the way, Byleth.”  
  
  


* * *

  
“You know... The timing of your arrival is rather perfect.”

The dark veil of night has long since fallen. With Seteth having found rooms for those who had accompanied Dimitri on his visit and with Byleth’s tour of the monastery finishing up in the greenhouses, the group had decided to separate and retire to their beds.

There’s a slight chill in the air. Not one that’s as cold as the winds back home in Faerghus, but still enough that it prompts Byleth’s shoulders to shiver beneath the light nightgown she wears. Dimitri had been quick to notice, which is why the room has begun to spread with warmth from the wood burning in the fireplace.

“Oh?” Dimitri replies.

Byleth sets the hairbrush she’s been holding down onto the vanity sitting before her for a moment, twisting her body as she turns to look at where Dimitri sits upon their shared bed. Now that it’s just the two of them he’s dressed down from his regal attire, and he’s calmly petting the orange cat which has decided to curl up against his side.

“It is,” Byleth says, fondly watching her husband. “The end of this week we’ll be holding the White Heron Cup.”

A smile stretches across Dimitri’s face, his attention moving from Cat to her.

“I see,” he replies, giving a little shake of his head. “I’m surprised Seteth agreed to it. Especially after the trouble you went through persuading him about holding the ball in the first place.”

Byleth rests her head on her arms, settling them against the back of her chair.

“It was difficult convincing him at first. But once I reminded him that it would keep up the appearance of normality, he seemed to see reason.” She pauses, taking a second to think. “I do believe Flayn helped me out, too. She _loves_ the ball, and I think she spoke to Seteth about how the Cup was a tradition that goes along with it. You know how much Seteth loves looking out for Flayn’s happiness. Seeing her excitement over the idea likely changed his mind.”

She’d understood Seteth’s hesitance. Despite appearances, both the Church and the Kingdom remained hard at work at maintaining and building upon the peace that’s been found since the war ended. It’s why Dimitri’s headed to Enbarr, to negotiate on some of the new legislations that are to soon be put into place. Yet the Church’s work has been more cautious, more secretive.

Byleth still remembers the letter they’d found a few days after Edelgard’s death. It had been written by Hubert, and in it he had spoken of a threat hidden in the shadows. _Those Who Slither In The Dark,_ he’d called them. Byleth had taken the letter back with her, and along with Seteth’s thoughts on whom it was Hubert had spoken of, they’d quietly - with the aid of Dimitri and the Kingdom - began to investigate for themselves.

It had been imperative to her however to maintain the image of the Church rebuilding, so as to not arise suspicion from any involved in such a circle. Byleth’s heart ached to learn that the Empire had been hiding such knowledge from the rest of them, and often wondered if the long war could have somehow been avoided if only the leaders had communicated their worries and frustrations first.

Even with the power of the divine pulse she held, some events of the past just couldn’t be changed. Sothis had taught her that hard truth many years ago.

“So really,” Dimitri begins, pushing himself up and off the bed. “Flayn convinced him more than you did.”

Byleth lets out a small laugh, moving to sit properly in her chair once more. “Probably.”

In the reflection of her mirror Byleth watches Dimitri come to a stop behind her. He leans forward, pressing a light kiss against her cheek as his hand reaches for her hairbrush. Byleth settles into her seat better, silently inviting Dimitri to begin brushing it for her. He’s gentle, gliding the brush through her hair smoothly, letting the section he holds fall into his fingertips before softly repeating the action.

Byleth’s eyes fall closed, the caring touch calming her. The corners of her lips tilt upwards in a serene smile, thankful for the rare, quiet moments the two of them share with one another.

“Speaking of the White Heron Cup …” she says, breaking the spell of silence which has fallen over them. “_I_ still remember how difficult it was for me to find a volunteer dancer out of your class. I seem to recall even you didn’t want to help me for once!”

“Oh come now,” Dimitri replies, and Byleth notices how his face is beginning to turn a light shade of red through the mirrors reflection. “I wasn’t truly _that bad_, was I?”

“.... Dimitri. Love. You as good as _begged me_ not to pick you to be the house representative.”

“All worked out well in the end though, did it not?” says Dimitri. “As far as I recall, Annette thoroughly enjoyed the experience.”

“True enough,” Byleth concedes. She manages to catch Dimitri’s eye through her mirror, her breath catching at the warmth shining in his eye. “She was an incredible dancer too. I remember just how proud I was to see her win, especially since it made her so happy.”

“I’m certain she’s just as excited about it this time around as she was when we were students.”

“Oh, she is,” Byleth replies, shaking her head slightly. “But it’s different on the other side, with all the planning and preparation, all of the training. She had practiced before - although thank Gods she already had dancing experience, as I surely lack in that area. But now I think what she loves most is passing down what she knows to those students taking part this time around.”

Dimitri lets out a thoughtful sound, and Byleth notices how his reflection frowns.

“From what I recall, you are a much better dancer than you give yourself credit for.”

“Really?” Byleth raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Really,” Dimitri agrees, briefly meeting her eyes in the mirror once more before returning to focus on her hair. “You danced beautifully at our wedding.”

“I was terrified I would step on your feet,” Byleth confesses, her words prompting Dimitri to let out a small chuckle.

He sets Byleth’s hairbrush back down onto the vanity, resting his hands upon her shoulders. Gently, he rubs soothing circles against her skin, gazes once again caught through their reflections.

“And yet, you never once did.”

“_Thankfully._”

“Perhaps it would be better if I were to convince you that you don’t have two left feet.”

Dimitri holds out an inviting hand. It’s rare for him to initiate something like a dance. They usually made him feel uncomfortable. Byleth still remembers how nervous he had been during the dancing at their wedding, not to mention the memories she holds of a younger Dimitri in his academy days attempting to avoid most offers to dance at his own years ball.

The difference this time though is that there are no large groups watching them or strangers desperate for a dance with a prince or newly crowned king. Instead it is just the two of them.

Byleth doesn’t need much convincing to accept. In fact, after taking a moment to be surprised by the offer she is quick to rest her hands in his before Dimitri can change his mind. He guides her up and out of her chair, grip firm yet warm. Byleth follows as Dimitri gently pulls them to the small space there is between the roaring fireplace and the large bed.

Byleth moves easily into Dimitri’s arms, one arm wrapping around his waist whilst her other remains grasping his hand. She feels the way Dimitri’s hand settles gracefully against the small of her back, guiding her body to move a little closer to his as they both settle into a slow sway.

“See?” Dimitri says after a few moments, smiling down at her. “You’re a natural, beloved.”

Byleth lets out a huff of laughter, shaking her head before she settles her head against his chest.

A peaceful quiet washes over them as they continue to sway. What with their shared responsibilities such moments were rarely shared between the two of them, and so Byleth basks in the stolen intimacy. For right now they weren’t the Saviour King and the Archbishop, but simply a man and a woman whom were devastatingly in love.

“Do you remember,” Byleth begins, voice soft and delicate as if she were careful not to break the enchanting spell they are caught in. “When we were in the Goddess Tower together on the night of the ball? I asked you what it was you would wish for.”

“That you did.”

“You told me back then that you didn’t really believe in the legend, or in wishes being granted. But after everything we’ve been through … I truly believe we’re working in the right direction to fulfil yours.”

Dimitri’s arms briefly tighten around her, before he relaxes them once again. She knows he understands, that he sees how hopeful she is. There will always be people out for themselves, but both her and Dimitri were working so hard to make things better. To try and not let the mistakes of the past crumble the path they were slowly crafting towards a brighter future.

Dimitri’s lips press against the crown of her head, placing a light kiss there before resting his chin against her hair.

“I believe my faith in the fulfilment of wishes is stronger now than it was during my youth. After all, my wish that we’d be together came true in the end, did it not?”

“Has it been forever already?” Byleth asks, smiling. Dimitri laughs.

“No. But I’m not going anywhere far from you.”


End file.
